If I were a kiln,
All in fervour and flame,
I'd catch thee, and then be
Consumed in—the—same.
Luke lightly raised his hand, and put his finger to his lip.
Urith was asleep.
CHAPTER XLVII. IN THE HALL GARDEN.
Bessie was in the garden, the following afternoon, with scissors and an apron pinned up, trimming her flowers, yet with her mind away from the plants; she was unhappy on her own account, yet strove after resignation, and she felt the consciousness of having done right in sacrificing herself for her father. He must now behave more kindly towards her; be more ready to listen to her intercession for poor Anthony. Poor Anthony! she had heard that morning that he was gone, gone to extreme risk, and that Urith was in danger. She had resolved that now she must go to Willsworthy and see her sister-in-law, and be of what use to her she could. Her father could no longer forbid that. Even if he did, in that she would not obey him.
She was stooping over her plants, with tears in her eyes, snipping, picking off dead flowers and leaves, and tying up the carnations, when she heard behind her the voice of Fox.